


Leaving it all behind

by TWDObsessive



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Existential Angst, First Meetings, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, beach, i'm not really sure what this is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 15:06:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8991775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TWDObsessive/pseuds/TWDObsessive
Summary: Rick has lost everything.  His job, his wife, his son.  What he wants is simply nothingness.OrThe beach bum fic no one asked for.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd cause it's a short drabbly nothing.
> 
> Warning- Carl had been killed before this fic takes place. If that disturbs anyone- you may want to skip this one.

I stood in my bare appartment and I had no idea what to do. Lori left earlier in the day with all her stuff and after five years together I don't think I realized how little I actually owned in this world. 

I looked around the room. I had a fern. It was dying. I had a scuffed up end table and worn out recliner that didn't even recline anymore. I had one kitchen chair that I salvaged from my old set before Lori threw it all out to replace it with hers. 

I had some old dishware I’d gotten from my folks when I got my first apartment. I had some clothes, not much. Ever since I was shot and couldn't be a cop anymore because of the nerve damage that had me in constant pain, I didn't need many clothes. I never went anywhere. 

I opened my fridge. Not much there either. I had mustard. I had two Tupperware containers that seemed to contain something fuzzy. I had eggs that I don't even remember buying and I had green bread.

The apartment was silent since I had no tv. I stood in the middle of the room staring at the wall where the Lori’s big screen once hung, the only sound, the whirl and ping from the ceiling fan and the loose screw that has been pinging for three straight summers.

I had nowhere to go and nothing to do. It was either the worst day of my life or the best. No one expected anything from me. I had nothing I needed to do and no one would even miss me if I was gone. I made sure I had my wallet, stuffed my month’s supply of painkillers in my front pocket and grabbed my keys. I left the apartment and took nothing else with me. I didn't even lock it up behind me. None of it was really mine. The only thing that was mine was me.

I climbed into my rusted out pick-up and headed aimlessly towards the coast. If I had to sit and stare at nothing all day, I’d rather it be the horizon over the ocean than four blank walls and a roof. I hadn’t been to the beach since I graduated high school with Shane. He wouldn’t even notice I was gone. It’s been months since I’ve been off the force and Lori told me flat out that my depression was too much to expect Shane to handle. Then a month later it was too much for her to handle.

The drive to the coast was exhilarating. I spent a few moments at one of the stoplights on the way out of town wondering how I’d handle the landlord and the car insurance and how I should close out my bank account, but by the time I hit the county line, I just didn’t care. I was going to disappear. I didn’t even really need the damn pain killers, truth be told. I could handle a little pain. If I was sleeping out under the stars on a beach somewhere with no more worries than where to find I bite to eat, then I can take whatever comes my way. I didn’t want to live anymore. But I also didn’t want to die. So this was my compromise. 

After five hours of driving I finally pulled into an Arby’s. I checked my wallet and I’d left with all I had on me- $427.16. I’d have to stretch it. I used the Arby’s bathroom and then went to the fixin’s bar and filled up a napkin with lettuce and tomatoes- free salad. It was all I needed. The place was busy enough that no one even paid me any attention. After I ate it, I went out to the truck and brought in a thermos I’d always kept under the seat. I filled it up from the water fountain and hit the road. 

By the time I saw the skyline disappear, and heard the sound of seagulls out my open window the sun was just starting to set. I parked my truck and walked aimlessly to the sound of waves crashing and the smell of salt and fresh air. Everyone around me was happy. They were on vacations, in bathing suits, lugging around bags of souvenirs and buckets of Fisher’s popcorn. No one paid me much attention as I walked by. I was unremarkable. Long curly hair that needed a cut, an untamed beard, jeans and old grey T-shirt. Nothing that really stood out from any of the other beach dwellers. 

I got up to the boardwalk and looked out over the beach and the water. It was so big and not being able to see the end of the horizon or the water below it made me feel insignificant in the grand scheme of things. My shoulder flared up a bit with the beginning tingles that meant shooting pain was liable to follow soon but I needed to wait it out since I only had so many pills. I could handle physical pain. It was the mental kind that was more tricky.

As the sun dipped down and the families grew sparser along the boardwalk, everyone on the beach finally folding up umbrellas and chairs and dragging kids and picnic baskets and boogie boards back to their car I was reassured that I was making the right move for myself. I didn’t want things. I didn’t want umbrellas. I didn’t want beach towels or suitcases. I didn’t want kids. 

Well, I wanted one kid. But he was gone and nothing was going to change that. Wrong place, wrong time. Some other kid with a father that wasn’t for shit, not keeping his guns locked up and kids are curious. They rebel and they play. And they don’t understand the dangers of guns. Ron had been showing them off to Carl when it happened. Shot him right in the eye. It ruined me and Lori. And the injury on the job three months later was probably attributed to me not being as sharp and alert as I’d once been when I had a son to come home safe to.

When the beach was mostly empty, save for a few young romantics walking hand in hand, I slipped off my shoes and walked out to where the waves lapped at my toes. The horizon was dark orange and the sound of the waves was a lulling serenade that I could sleep to. I wasn’t sure how heavily patrolled the beaches were after dark, but it wouldn’t be hard to just say I fell asleep. It had been a long drive and the splashing and lapping of the water was hypnotizing. I walked back so I was close enough to the boardwalk that passersby wouldn’t be able to see me if they looked out to admire the scenery. 

I heard footsteps above me and occasional squeals from excited children or giggles from teenagers but the sounds were just a world that was no longer part of me and I could let it play against the waves and feel as if I were above it all. I was hungry, but not starved. I’d worry with that in the morning. What I wanted most was sleep. Quiet, worry-free rest and freedom. I laid back and rested my head on my good arm so as not to do too much damage to the one that was already starting throb. And for the first time in months, I was asleep mere moments after I closed my eyes.

I woke to a midnight-dark sky dotted with stars and the easy sound of the ocean. The tourists must be all tucked away in their hotel rooms, bellies stuffed from overeating, bags full of crap they didn’t need like hats about seagulls and little bottles of sand. I sat up to stretch and startled at a dark figure sitting next to me. 

“Ain’t never seen you here b’fore,” he grumbled. 

“Just got here,” I answered. 

“Ain’t got no hotel or nothin’?” he asked. As my eyes adjusted I could get a better look at him. He had cut-off jeans and a Life’s a Beach Tshirt that once had sleeves but no longer did. He had long stringy dark hair and wispy facial hair with a beauty mark above one lip. He looked tired but not necessarily unhappy, worn down but not necessarily broken.

“Nah. Wasn’t looking for that kinda trip,” I answered abstractly as I looked out over the dark ocean. “Why aren’t you in a hotel. Must be what? Two a.m.?”

“‘Bout three. I always sleep on the beach. Kinda my thing. Don’t look like it’s your thing though. So I thought I’d keep an eye on yah. Make sure you don’t get robbed or nothin’.”

“Oh. That was nice. Thanks.”

He shrugged. 

“Why didn’t you rob me?” I asked. The guy had no shoes and by all accounts looked to be the quintessential beach bum. Not the elitist kind who came out of their high-rise to act like a beach bum. But the kind who had nowhere else to go. 

“I ain’t a criminal,” he answered with a lopsided smile. “Get what I need in this life fair and square.”

“You sleep out here every night?” I asked.

He nodded and raked his fingers through the sand till he found a seashell and he picked it up and dusted it off as he talked. “Home wasn’t never great so I used to stay out here a lot. Figured out how to make it work.” He looked over at me. “That what you’re tryin’ to do?” he asked.

“Yeah. Pretty much,” I answered.

“You’re doin’ it wrong.” 

“How so? You don’t even know me.” 

“Your stomach’s been growlin’ for the past hour. Probably what woke yah up. Gotta learn how to find food if you’re going to throw all the comforts of home away.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” I answered. We were quiet for a while, no sounds but the roll of waves on the beach.

“What ya throwin’ away?” he asked.

“Wasn't’ nothin’ left to get rid of. Lost my job. My girl. My… just lost everything. Don’t wanna die. But don’t want to keep on struggling to live through the bullshit either.”

He nodded as he tossed the sea shell out in front of him. 

“How long you been just livin’ on the beach?” I asked.

“Don’t really keep time. Years I guess. What month is it?” he asked completely serious.

“June.” 

“Huh,“ he responded and then zoned out into thoughts of his own. “I know where we can get some food in a few hours if you want me to show you some of the ropes.”

I nodded. “Okay.”

Then we sat there as the sun started to make it’s slow, shy appearance, peeking just a wink over the horizon and painting the sky brighter blues, deep pinks and smokey purples. 

“Is it nice seeing this every day?” I asked.

“Never gets old,” he said with a sincerity in his voice that I wanted to have.

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo... Not real sure what to do with this one. Leave it as a one shot or try to continue. I'm about as aimless on this as Rick is in the fic.


End file.
